


Two Evils

by the_technicolor_whiscash



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: And Lots of It, Angst, Depression?, Holy Water, Kissing, M/M, based post-the 1960’s soho scene, confessions of feelings, it gave me Emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 12:59:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19110148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_technicolor_whiscash/pseuds/the_technicolor_whiscash
Summary: Something about bringing Crowley the holy water just didn’t sit right with Aziraphale. He decides to call the demon and ask for some answers.





	Two Evils

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so the fic is inspired by the bastille song of the same name because I’ve been listening to a lot of bastille lately, and for the last two years, and their songs all slap and many of them have a Crowley/Aziraphale vibe

_I’m the lesser of two evils_   
_Or am I, am I tricking myself nice?_   
_If I’m the lesser of two evils_   
_Who’s this man, who’s this act I hide behind?_

Aziraphale sat in his bookshop, trying and failing to read. His eyes glanced over the words, but his brain was elsewhere. Namely, something that a certain demon had said. 

“I’ll give you a lift. Anywhere you want to go.”

Aziraphale turned him down. He left before Crowley could reply. 

Now, he was wondering if he should’ve stayed in the car. Had Crowley drive him back to his bookshop, or the nearest pub. Or back to Crowley’s flat. Aziraphale wasn’t ignorant. He knew how that would have ended up. He knew that his feelings for Crowley were, at this point, far from hidden. And Crowley, though he tended to prefer using sarcasm instead of showcasing his real emotions, had let his emotions bleed through more than enough for Aziraphale to get the picture. 

But he just… he just couldn’t. For an angel and a demon to _fraternize_ in such a way was unheard of. Though Aziraphale wasn’t sure what Heaven would do, should they find out, but his gut told him that it would be bad. Very, very bad. And the consequences for Crowley would be even more severe. Possibly even resulting in permanent discorporation. 

The thought of it made Aziraphale shudder. Crowley was his everything. His rock. His oldest friend. The one who was always there, even after others had passed. Aziraphale couldn’t even imagine what life would be like if he didn’t have Crowley to fall back on. 

Sighing, Aziraphale closed his book and stood up from his chair. He stretched, before wandering over to his desk. There were a few photos on the top, of places and people who were important to him. Of course, there were a few of Crowley, never camera-shy. Beside these pictures was an old rotary-style telephone. 

His hand hovered over the receiver. Aziraphale pondered whether or not to call Crowley. To see if he was ok. Maybe ask him for lunch. But perhaps it was too soon, too soon after leaving him in the car with the holy water. 

That was another thing. The holy water. The lengths that Crowley was willing to go through to get it was almost scary. Why Crowley even wanted the water, Aziraphale didn’t know. He had never seemed low enough to want to kill himself, but Aziraphale hadn’t seen him in a while. Not since they were in church with the nazis. Things may have changed. Hell, Crowley might’ve wanted it to kill his bosses. Crowley complained frequently about Hastur and Ligur, about how he didn’t trust them. Regardless, whatever his motives, it still didn’t sit right with a Aziraphale. 

He sighed. It would bother him if he didn’t have at least some form of closure on the situation. So he dialed Crowley’s number, and hoped that he was home.

“‘Ello?” The voice of Crowley answered. He sounded at least slightly drunk, if not moreso. 

“Crowley, it’s me, Aziraphale.”

“Angel, you don’t have to say your name every time you answer the phone. I know who you are.” Yes, Crowley was most definitely drunk. 

“Are you alright? It’s just, I haven’t seen you in a while, and you seemed rather sad in the car.”

“I’m fine. Fit as a fiddle. All that jazz.” Aziraphale could imagine Crowley waving his hand around to emphasize the statement. “Why do you care?”

Aziraphale cringed. Crowley’s choice of words were less than comforting. “Because, you’re my…” He didn’t want to say friend. “Counterpart. And I don’t like seeing you in a bad way.”

“I’m totally cool, Azzie.” Oh, that was a new one. Hopefully, one that would remain with drunk Crowley, and not return with sober Crowley. “Abso-tota-lutely fine.” 

Clearly, he wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of Crowley by asking this way. “You don’t sound fine.”

“I sound drunk, is what I sound. Sound like.”

“Very drunk, from what I can tell at my end.”

“Yes, that’s accurate. I am just as drunk as I am fine.” That was a lie. “And you wanna know something?”

“What?”

“It is your fault.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. He knew Crowley couldn’t see it, but he hoped it reflected in his tone of voice. “Oh? How so?”

“Because, you’ve broken my heart.” Crowley hiccuped. “And I have a feeling I’m going to regret saying that tomorrow.”

Aziraphale froze, momentarily forgetting how to speak. 

“I know, I know your reason is up there and down there mucking things up.” Crowley muttered on. “But God, I just… you make things really hard for me.”

“Crowley.” Aziraphale said authoritatively, “Perhaps this conversation should wait until you’re sober.”

“Maybe. But if I’m sober, I won’t have the guts to say it.” Crowley’s voice grew sad. “I wish things didn’t have to be like this.”

“I know.”

“Sometimes I wish we were human. So we didn’t have to worry about our supervisors catching us.”

“I know, dear. So do I.” Aziraphale closed his eyes. He could feel tears prickling behind his eyelids. “I have a feeling we’re both going to regret this in the morning.”

“Are you going to hang up?”

“Not without saying goodbye.” 

“Please, don’t hang up.” Crowley pleaded. 

“I have to hang up at some point.” Aziraphale was crying now. He tried to keep it out of his voice. 

“Aziraphale, please. Don’t go.” 

“I’m sorry, Crowley. I promise, I’ll call you in the morning.”

“I just want to hear your voice for a bit longer.” 

Aziraphale kept his handkerchief pressed to his eyes. “Crowley… do you need me to come over?”

“No, I… I don’t know. I just feel rubbish.”

“That much I had put together. Try sobering up. I’ll be over in a few.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale’s voice was soft. He had stemmed the crying for now, but he didn’t feel particularly good. Hanging up the phone, he stood, attempting to miracle the redness out of his eyes. 

He made his way to Crowley’s flat, knocking three hard knocks on the door. Crowley opened it within a second, leading Aziraphale to realize that Crowley had been waiting by the door. A variety of alcohol bottles were strewn in a variety of places, and one was clutched in Crowley’s hand. 

“I thought I told you to sober up.” Aziraphale said, gently taking the bottle out of Crowley’s hand. 

“Eh. Decided it was probably better to be drunk.” 

“Crowley.” He attempted to make his voice sound disappointed. 

“Fi-ine. You’re no fun.” Aziraphale watched as Crowley’s eyes grew clearer, and his expression grew serious. “Right. Ok. I’m an idiot.”

“Would you like to talk about your problems?”

Crowley rubbed his eyes. “Hell, I don’t know.” He meandered further into his apartment, staring at his plants. 

“Would you like me to stay?”

“Up to you.” 

“I’m worried about you, Crowley.” Aziraphale said, stepping closer to him. 

“Yes, you made that quite clear on the phone.”

“I care about you, and I don’t want to see you hurt yourself.” 

“Angel, angel. It’s… just in case. If my supervisors decide they want me back in hell.”

“What, so instead of going to hell you’re just going to kill yourself?”

“No! I’m going to use it on them. Ideally, anyway. Worst comes to worst, well, you know. Least I had a good six thousand years.”

Aziraphale furrowed his brow in concern. “And what makes you think they’re planning on doing this soon?”

“I never said anything about that.” 

“No, but I know you, Crowley. You wouldn’t try to get holy water unless you were genuinely sure something was going to happen.”

“It’s a precaution.” Crowley sighed, finally turning to look at Aziraphale. “No matter what, I’m not going back to hell.”

“Is that what’s bothering you?”

Crowley’s voice grew quiet. “Yes. Because if they call me back, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to come back to earth.” He cleared his throat. “I hate to admit it, but it seems I’ve gone native. I like it too much here to want to go back.”

“Of course. The earth is a lovely place, and quite a step up from hell, from what I’ve heard-“

Crowley raised a hand in the air, prompting Aziraphale to stop. “And, if they kept me in hell, I’d never be able to see you again. I don’t think I could bear that.”

“Crowley-“

“I know. I know we’ve been avoiding the subject for centuries. I know we would be risking the wrath of our higher-ups.” Crowley was now standing treacherously close to Aziraphale. “But Angel, I’m starting to realize I don’t care about that anymore.”

“Crowley, you know we can’t. We’re just too different.”

“You know we’re not! I mean, look. Who else on this planet has been around for six thousand years? Who else watched Shakespeare in his first productions of Hamlet, while also having witnessed the crucifixion of Christ!”

It was then that Aziraphale had noticed that he had been backing up, and now he had his back to the wall, Crowley close in front of him. It took everything in his power not to grab the demon by his lapels and pull him into a kiss. “We could lose everything. They could destroy you.”

“That’s why I have the holy water. Get them before they can get me. I’m just so tired of going in circles like this.” 

Aziraphale’s mouth was dry. “So am I.” 

“I don’t care if it’s a bad idea. Screw heaven and hell. Who are they to tell us what to do?”

“I love it when you talk like that.” It slipped out of Aziraphale’s mouth before he realized what he was saying. He realized that there was only one way forward. Reaching up, he cupped Crowley’s cheek in his hand. And then Aziraphale kissed him. 

As far as kisses go, it was by far the longest-awaited in history. Six thousand years is a long time to pine for someone, even though Aziraphale only realized what that pining meant a few decades ago. And so Aziraphale kissed Crowley, kissed him like it was the end of the world. It very well could have been, if anyone from heaven or hell had been paying attention at the time. Fortunately, when it came to affection, both sides conveniently turned a blind eye. 

“We’re both still alive.” Crowley said, stating the obvious. “That’s a good sign.”

“Quite.” Aziraphale put a hand to the area of bare chest conveniently exposed by Crowley’s perpetually open top button. “Perhaps they haven’t noticed.”

“Perhaps they aren’t bothering to look. Better things to do than making sure an angel and a demon don’t snog.” Crowley tipped his head down, catching Aziraphale’s lips in another kiss. “You’re telling me I could’ve been doing that for centuries, and nobody would’ve cared?”

“I would have.”

“Will you stay the night?” Crowley asked, his hand making its way through Aziraphale’s hair. 

“My dear, I thought that was implied.”

“Just wanted to make sure.” 

They kissed again. Aziraphale no longer felt that familiar twinge of regret that appeared every time he saw Crowley. Instead, he felt an overwhelming sense of love. Yes, this might all come crashing down in the morning. But for now, he didn’t have to worry.

**Author's Note:**

> We love some good love here gang


End file.
